


Act V: An Epilogue or Two

by LadyCorvidae, roseforthethorns



Series: Don't Stand So Close to Me [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fighting, Friendship, M/M, Proposals, Reconciliation, True Love, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCorvidae/pseuds/LadyCorvidae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrapping up a few loose ends: John and Sherlock have to make up, the Doctor has to propose...and whatever happened to Jim and Seb?</p><p>(I own nothing of these characters. All Sherlock rights go to the BBC, Moffat, and Gatiss. I'm just having some fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock reconcile

John sighed as he sat at his desk in his office. The last few months without Sherlock teaching were boring, to say the least, and he hadn't seen his friend once since he had been sacked. He had no idea where he was working, and he certainly could have found out, but he was being stubborn. John set aside another graded final and picked up an ungraded one, cracking his knuckles before he set to work again.

There was a knock at his office door. "May I come in?"

He started; John knew that voice anywhere. "Yes, Sherlock, you may."

"You sure you won't punch me again?"

He had to hide a snicker. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you've done something incredibly stupid or not. Now get in here, you git!"

Sherlock slowly walked in, looking down at his best friend. "I don't think I've done anything incredibly stupid lately, although I do believe you are a better judge of that than I."

"Haven't heard Mycroft complaining lately, so I don't think you have either."

"Well, that would be because he's too busy shagging the Headmaster to care."

John dropped his pen. "I... really, _really_ did not need to know that," he said, screwing up his face.

"Well it _is_ about time. Now they can stop mooning over each other from afar and just cut to the-"

"SHUT IT. Getting dangerously close to 'you're doing something stupid so I might have to chin you again' territory."

Sherlock slipped into an easy smile. "Very well then. I actually came because I... well... I want to patch things up with us. You're my best, and only, friend, and I truly do not want to lose that."

John blinked. Sherlock rarely, if ever, apologized. "Oh..." he said, a bit at a loss for words.

"I-ah-realize that I was a bit of an... an idiot before, and no, I didn't take your warnings, but I did meet the love of my life, and now that I'm no longer teaching, her father has allowed us to start seeing each other again. I have permission," he added hastily as John's face took on a shocked air. "I do, and while I don't exactly have his blessing, it's as close as I will get for now. She makes me _happy_ , John."

His shocked expression gave way to a smile as he saw just how _truly_ happy this girl made his best friend. "All right, all right. I believe you," he said, chuckling slightly.

"And you aren't going to chin me?"

"No, I'm not going to chin you."

Sherlock's lip twitched ever so slightly. "If we shadows have offended-"

John's face broke into a wide grin. "-think but this, and all is mended. That you have but slumbered here while this visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream. Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. And, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck now to 'scape the serpents tongue, we will make amends ere long, else the Puck a liar call. And so, goodnight unto you all. Give us your hands, if we be friends...and Robin shall restore amends," he finished the quote. (1)

Sherlock's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "I thought you said you were pants at theater."

He flushed a bit. "I... ah... might have lied a bit..."

Without another word, Sherlock crossed to John's chair, hauled the shorter man up, and drew him into a crushing hug. John felt the air whoosh out of him as Sherlock gave him a hug so tight that he swore he could hear his ribs creak in protest. "Sherlock...  _air_ ," he said, after it was made clear that the taller man had no intentions of letting go any time soon.

The taller man slackened his grip very slightly but did not release John. He chuckled and patted his friend on the back. "'S all right, Sherlock. Don't worry... we're still friends," he said.

"Good."

John cleared his throat. "Actually... I... need your help," he said, a bit embarrassed.

"What for?"

"Erm... I'm... I'mproposingtoMaryandIneedhelpwithwords," he blurted.

Sherlock released his friend and fought back a snort of laughter. "Well, if you're going to blurt it all out like that, I can see why."

He scowled and punched his friend lightly on the arm. "Shut it, you. You'd probably feel the same way if you were going to propose to Molly."

He flushed a magnificent shade of red. "All I'd have to do is quote Hamlet to her in my proposal. Pick something that has meaning to the both of you and use that. Otherwise, just speak from your heart."

The sandy-haired teacher nodded. "Right. So... okay. Got it." He grinned. "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime, John. Anytime."


	2. An Unexpected Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School is out, so John can finally propose.

Mary sighed happily after she got over her laughter. John had just finished telling her about something particularly funny that had happened in a lab class when he was in college. "Thank God school is finally out..." she said as she removed her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. The dinner was magnificent, and she felt sated and quite content.

"I can only say the same. I never want to grade another lab again."

That made her laugh again. "And if I never have to stock another medicine cabinet, it will be too soon." She took a drink of her wine. "So, what warrants the occasion? We don't really eat out much..."

"Oh, nothing. Mostly wanted to celebrate the successful completion of the school year."

She raised an eyebrow. "John Hamish Watson, you are a _horrendous_ liar."

He could feel his face start to flush. "Oi! Don't rush me." He glanced up and caught the eye of the travelling violinist who was making his way around the restaurant. He sauntered over and John whispered something in his ear; the tall, pale man smirked slightly and winked down at John before starting to play.

Mary blinked. "Is that... is that _Sherlock_?" she asked incredulously. But she ignored the violinist in favor of the music he was playing; 'Concerning Hobbits'... hers and John's favorite piece. Her eyebrows went up. "...John?" she asked, hardly daring to hope that this was going where she thought it was going.

The former professor winked at them both and nudged John's shoulder with his hip.

"I get it, you prat," the blonde professor hissed at his friend before standing awkwardly and kneeling on one knee in front of Mary's chair. He pulled a box from his jacket and opened it. "Mary Morstan, life's an unexpected party... will you be with me for the rest of it?"

Mary's eyes went wide and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Tears began to spill down her face and she grinned, brightly enough to shame the sun. "Yes... oh, John, _yes_."

Beaming to beat all, John took the ring from the little box and slipped it over his finger. "My Rosie Cotton, then?" he teased.

She drew him up off of his knees and kissed him soundly. John wasn't aware of anything aside from his fiancée for several seconds until he was vaguely aware of music and applause. When the kiss finally ended, Mary was aware that the rest of the restaurant's patrons were on their feet as well, smiling and clapping. Sherlock was still playing, a great grin across his face; she absently noted that this was the first time she had ever seen him smile. "Yes... your Rosie Cotton," she murmured to John, happily resting her forehead on his.

The science professor held the nurse very tightly in his arms, swaying slightly to the music as Sherlock finished with a great flourish. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered in Mary's ear.

"As you are to me," she whispered back.


	3. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time.

... _12 years later_...

Jim Moriarty had come a long way since walking out on his university days. He'd severed every tie from his old life and had reinvented himself as Jim, the Consulting Criminal. When people found themselves in trouble (which was always), they could come to him and he'd fix it for them... for a hefty fee, of course. At the moment, though, he was on his way  confront the leader of the most prevalent arms smuggling and murder-for-hire ring in London. This particular individual fascinated him because he could not find out one iota of information on him. He'd only dealt with lackeys and underlings in setting up a meeting with the elusive man, so his interest was certainly piqued. The short, pale, Irishman strode down the street in the midday sun, his Westwood suit impeccable and untarnished. It didn't take long before he found the shop he was looking for.

**_The Tiger's Lilies_. **

He shook away the tiniest twinge of pain and anger that sparked at the name before sweeping through the door and walking up to the counter. He rang the bell once and glanced around at the shop curiously.

A tall, thin woman appeared and glanced at him. "You must be looking for the Boss," she said, her voice smooth. "You are, yes?"

"I am, indeed, looking for 'The Boss.'" Jim lost no time in putting air quotes around the words; as far as he was concerned, he was the only boss anyone needed to worry about. "Why don't you trot off like a good little bitch and tell your master that his appointment is here. It is a very bad idea to keep me waiting."

She cocked her head to the side before whipping a knife at his head, quicker than he could blink. It sank into the wall behind him, wobbling slightly as its point buried itself deep into the wood and plaster. "No matter the appointment, _respect_ is demanded of us all," she hissed. "I'll go, but be warned, little man. The Boss doesn't take kindly to sharp mouths and backtalk."

"He'll take it from me. Everyone does. Or they go 'boom.'"

She eyed him with intense dislike and stalked off to fetch her employer.

Smirking slightly, Jim glanced around the shop some more, keeping the door to the back in the corner of his eyes as he looked at some rather impressive Lilies of the Valley... used at funerals, petals fairly poisonous... hmmmm.

"You certainly made Nettle upset," drawled a low, masculine voice. He was still out of sight. "And she doesn't perform well when she's upset. So may I inquire as to _why_ you're here, sir? As I'm sure she told you, all of us demand respect... myself not least."

A smile played at the edge of Jim's mouth. "Well, I'm rather known for not having a single care in the world for anyone aside from myself. I don't give respect. Others must earn it from me. A rather Herculean task if I'm honest."

The still-unseen man chuckled. "You sound a lot like someone I knew very well once... I think we might get along after all," he said, and Sebastian Moran rounded the corner, dressed entirely in black. His eyes went wide as he saw who was in his shop; even if he were older, more careworn, and dressed in an impressive suit, he was still James Moriarty.

Jim turned at the movement and froze completely, suddenly more than aware of the location of his heartbeat as it drummed a tattoo in his throat. No... no this wasn't supposed to happen...  _no_...

"The _fuck_ are you doing here?" Seb finally managed to hiss after he composed himself.

"I'm your one o'clock," Jim shot back.

The older man growled. "Get out. Find somewhere else to deal. Not here."

"Ohhhhhh Moran. Is that really so wise of you? I'm sure your underlings have told you what I'm capable of." _Shitno, not this, not now, what the FUCK was Sebby doing_ here _?_

"And who was it who _taught_ you to be what you're capable of, _Jimmy_? I've _learned_ so much more since you cast me off," he spat.

The consulting criminal couldn't stop the clenching of his heart at the old nickname; no one had used it since Seb. "And what makes you think I've been idle? Twelve years is a _loooong_ time to hone in skills, and Daddy is more than done being patient with you."

Seb leapt the counter and drove the smaller man, his former lover, into the wall, wresting the knife from it. "Still can tell that you don't like getting your hands dirty...  _Magpie_ ," he hissed, the knife blade resting against Jim's throat.

The pale man stared fearlessly up at the blonde. "Go ahead then, _Tiger_. See if I stop you. I know you won't do it."

He pressed harder, enough to break the skin, but..."Damn you to the pits of hell and back," he murmured before letting Jim go.

He retrieved his handkerchief and pressed it to the gash, keeping any blood from staining his suit. "Already been. Several times, actually. It's rather fun. You should go there sometime."

Sebastian chuckled darkly. "No thanks. Pretty sure I have a timeshare there now..."

"Huh. Guess that means I'm your landlord since I'm the King there."

That made Seb laugh out loud. "King? Hardly. I know people that make us both look like babes in the wood. Duke, probably."

"No, trust me on this one. I _am_ the king, and all who traverse the underworld are my servants whether they like it or not."

"Well, one thing certainly hasn't changed... you're still a cocky little fuckwad."

"And you still have a mouth that would shame a sailor."

That made the taller man grin, showing of the points of his sharp teeth. "Of course. Like _that_ would have changed in the twelve years you've been gone...

"No, if anything, it's gotten worse."

"Yeah. Now I can cuss in eight different languages."

" _Realllllly_."

Noting that he was still close and friendly with his former lover, Seb backed away and adopted a more professional tone. "Really. Now... what was it that you were wanting?"

Jim straightened imperceptibly, his eyes growing colder than diamonds. "Well, I'm sure you've heard about my empire, and at this point, you are the only group not working for me. I'm here to recruit you."

Seb raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for us? What if I say _no_?"

"Well, your pay would certainly be better and your life would cease to be dull. If you refuse, you die. Very simple. Even you should be able to understand it."

"Oh, let me guess... I 'wouldn't understand you and your reputation'," he said bitterly.

"No. No you wouldn't."

He let out a strangled laugh. "Yeah. Okay. Second time in twelve years. I get it."

"Well, clearly you _don't_. You didn't then, and I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation now." He snapped his fingers and two of his men dragged Nettle out of the back room, a Semtex vest strapped to her chest.

Seb's pulse ratcheted up. Nettle was one of his best assassins... and one of his best friends. He kept his expression cold and his voice even. "Fine. You _win_." he spat.

Jim's grin was predatory. "Knew you'd come around, my pet."

Seb waited for the men to disengage the vest from the tall female assassin and take their leave before he punched Jim hard in the solar plexus. "THAT is for insulting me, insulting my teammates, being an arrogant prick, and for calling me your _pet_. I am _not_ your pet. Partner...perhaps. But owned by you? Never again," he said softly, dangerously.

Jim doubled over, his gaze growing more glacial by the second. "Yes... you _are_... my _pet_... do you remember... my attempts... with Hooper? You _never_ stop being... my pet... you selfish... arrogant... fuckwad!"

"Yeah, _attempts_. She's still alive."

"She was lucky."

"Twice. Married to that damned professor now, actually. You know, the one who taught that English class? Tall, dark, brilliant... the one she pined for. _And_ they've whelped," he said, knowing that flaunting Jim's first great failure in his face would sting.

"If you know what is good for you, you'll shut up right now."

"Why? Can't stand to think that a little _kitten_ caused you so much trouble? That she's still out there and she's _happy_? That she _has_ someone?"

"Sebastian Moran, you know not what you do."

" _Really_. Enlighten me, then."

"Well, where do I start?" Jim mocked, clasping his hands and walking a slow circle around the blonde. "You decide that goading the most powerful man in the room is your best course of action. False. You decide to bring up the bitch that caused his entire world to crumble as your ammunition. Extremely bad idea. Then you decide to be a fucktard and a smartarse and refuse to see that you are even more broken up over me than you were when _you_ threw _me_ to the side twelve years ago!"

Seb cast a look to Nettle that clearly said 'Get _out_ ' which she did, hastily. "Don't even _start_ about me being broken up about it. I _know_ I am. I've missed you so much that it's been like a physical pain every. single. day. For the past twelve years. Every _day_ , Jimmy," he said quietly, his blue eyes blazing.

"I DID MY WAITING! TWELVE YEARS OF IT!" Jim roared, seizing Seb by the front of his shirt and throwing him against the wall. " _You_ destroyed my life. _You_ made me what I am. _YOU_ made me _care_ and then... then..." Hss eyes were blazing with fire and thinly veiled insanity and despair.

Seb threw caution to the wind and kissed Jim, hard, hot, heavy, teeth biting and scraping, twelve years worth of apologies and 'I-missed-you's' and 'I-want-you's' and 'I-still-love you's' wrapped up in his mouth and tongue. Jim squeaked and fought back, trying to pry Seb off of him, not wanting to deal with everything that was bubbling to the surface and threatening his already frail sanity... but _god_ his lips were still as soft as they'd ever been, his teeth as sharp; he could taste copper on his tongue, and he struggled to not give in.

"God-fucking-dammit, I still love you, James," he breathed, when he finally broke for air.

The shorter, pale man felt the words echo through his entire body. "Then...  _why_?" The only question on his mind he'd never been able to answer

"Because I was young and stupid and didn't know how to admit I was wrong. Too proud, I expect," he murmured.

"Wait... is the 'great' Sebastian Moran apologizing? Did Hell freeze over when I left?"

Seb's eyes went cold. "This was one of the reasons, by the way..." he warned him. "And you should know, seeing as you claim to frequent it often enough."

"Well then, you should have known what you were getting into when you started it in the first place, Tiger. If I remember, _you_ kissed _me_."

He chuckled. "Still as sharp as ever, thank God. And yeah, yeah I did. Never regretted it. Not even once."

"Even though you would seem to have been suffering from a crushed heart for twelve years?"

"Yeah. Even through that."

"Why?"

"'Cause remember what I said? That you were the only one I'd die for? Still true."

"You would still die for me? What about all that talk about not being my pet?"

"Lover. Partner. Not _pet_."

"Yes, _pet_."

Seb snarled. "I'm not something that you can just _use_ , Jim. I will not be cast aside like some plaything when you've tired of me. If you want me to be your...  _pet_... then you're going to have to _earn_ it."

"I didn't cast you aside, you prick."

"Never said you did. Know that you would, though."

"I left because there was nothing left for me, cretin."

" _Bullshit_. Why didn't you come _find_ me?" he asked, that one question that had stuck with him, the one that hurt the most.

"Because you punched me, threw me aside, told me to never come back, threw my things in the _dumpster_!"

"Because I was _angry_! Because you said your fucking _reputation_ was more important than I was!"

"What else was I supposed to say to those arsehats?"

"I don't know! You're the fucking _genius_ , you should have figured it out!"

"I panicked, all right? Not proud of it, retard!"

Seb clutched the smaller man to him, a sound not unlike a sob coming out of his throat. "You stupid, _stupid_ fucker... I missed you so _much_..."

"C-c-can't breathe..."

He relaxed his hold only slightly, still keeping Jim tight in his arms. The consulting criminal took a breath in through his nose and was overwhelmed by the smell of the other man; it hadn't changed a single bit in twelve years aside from the faint hint of flowers.

"I love you... I _still_ love you..." the blonde man murmured.

"It hasn't changed..."

"Hm?"

"Your smell."

Seb chuckled. "Neither has yours."

"I-I missed you too...  _Sebby_."

He shivered. It had been exactly twelve years since he had been called that. He grudgingly let Jim go. "Right. So... we still have business to discuss, do we not?"

Jim blinked several times, shaking his head to clear it. "There's been an unexpected opening among my ranks... well, no, not unexpected. The traitor had it coming. I'm short a right hand man. You came rather highly recommended and _very_ elusive."

Seb grinned, mockingly. "And what makes you think I'll take the job?"

"Because, quite simply, I hear you're the best. And I _only_ take the best."

His grin became cocky. "Yes, I certainly _am_ the best. You remember _that_ , I know that much."

"Oh? The best at everything? Still?"

He leaned in close to Jim's ear, running his tongue along the outer shell of it. "We have all the time in the world to prove it," he murmured.

The smaller man visibly shivered, and, ddeliberately turning his head, he captured the older man's lips with his own, welcoming his lover, his partner, his _Sebby_ , home.

Seb nearly melted into the kiss. "All yours, Boss. All yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hardly believe that this is the last chapter!!!! My eternal thanks go to my co-writer, ladycorvidae without whom none of this would exist. Thanks will always be due to ACS, Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, and everyone involved in the updated Sherlock Holmes series that gives us so much to work with.
> 
> Also: Special thanks to Startwiththeridingcrop who has followed the story through to completion and has been a marvelous fan, extremely supported, and in short, we are both so chuffed you loved the story. Thank you, dear.


End file.
